


a voice from the past

by secondfiddle



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondfiddle/pseuds/secondfiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I''m doing it out of pity, for old times sake, just like he said, you keep mumbling to yourself, even though you're pretty sure it isn't the reason why.<br/>You can't quite put your thumb on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a voice from the past

**Author's Note:**

> this was sitting in my drafts for a wile and you can clearly see why  
> one of my favorite pasttimes, other than rampages, was to make these two fuckin idiots hang out  
> set in michaels pov, 2nd person, probably after the mission 'fame or shame'

Even with the two glasses of whiskey you downed before you even hopped into the car, you still can't seem to calm your nerves.

You're not even sure why you answered that call. You knew what trouble it would bring, the skeletons he would rattle out of the closet. But you still picked up anyways, freezing up a bit when you heard the gravelly voice on the other end.

'It's a voice from your past.'

You laugh to yourself a bit, even though this situation isn't funny anymore. You shouldn't be hanging out with this maniac, you especially shouldn't be having drinks with the damn guy, knowing his track record (and yours). I'm doing it out of pity, for old times sake, just like he said, you keep mumbling to yourself, even though you're pretty sure it isn't the reason why. You can't quite put your thumb on it.

You realize that you've passed the bar you were supposed to meet at twice. You make a quick U-turn and do probably the worst parallel park job of your life. You're pretty sure he's not here yet, but you pull the keys out of the ignition and sling them on the dashboard anyways, slumping down in your seat. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Gameplan's already formed, just chit-chat, have a beer or two, then leave. It's gonna go fine.

You hear muffled shouting from outside, and then you see the dingy red truck barreling down the sidewalk, people dodging it as fast as possible. It pulls up right behind you, maybe one or two centimeters away from scratching your bumper, and just for good measure, honks the horn as loud as humanly possible, making you jump out your skin. Yep. The gameplan isn't going to work.

A few more deep breaths, and you finally muster the courage to grab your keys and get of your car. You look up, and smile weakly, waving a little, even giving him a quick, 'Hey, T.' Like you're trying to pretend that you don't know him well or anything. Because you don't. Gameplan, remember?

"Mikey boy! Sorry I'm late or whatever, I was on the right track until I saw a sweet little number on the sidewalk, and I mean hey, if you're not gonna have a good time here, I guess I'll have it for you!" He give you a bear hug, and you get to have a good whiff of cheap beer, days of grime, blood and meth crusted into his skin, and the fresh scent of a hooker. That's Trevor all right. You pull away from him, and something flashes in his eyes before he flashes you a grin that's more animalistic than friendly. "So! What kinda overpriced shithole didja bring me to tonight?"

You sigh and drag him in, gesturing him to the brightly lit neon barstools. He takes a seat, quickly barking his order to the poor bartender, staring at her decently sized tits the entire time. You're nice enough to look at her face when you're ordering, already slipping her a a decently sized tip and apologizing to her twice. She laughs softly and walks off to get your order.

"Damn Mikey, no wonder you ran away! Clean bars, women who are decent and rich enough to have some work done now and then, nice atmosphere, this place has the whole package! I mean sure, there's overpriced drug dealers wherever I turn, I mean, do the realize you could drive a few miles and get the same shit for cheaper? Then there's the whole aura of the place, sorta fake, little high and mighty, yet still trashy all at the same time..." He turns to you and gives you a grin. "Perfect for a guy like you!"

You thank whatever power is above that your drinks finally came, because that finally shuts him up. He happily sucks on his beer bottle, and you take a quick drink of yours before you clear your throat. "So uh, T...how's, y'know, things?"

"Aw c'mon Mikey, I thought we got the whole small talk thing outta the way already! We've got better things to talk about other than me, what about you? What'cha been up to? I mean, other than roasting in the sun for hours on end and destroying your liver."

You down your beer quickly and wave the bartender over to get you and Trevor another one. You sigh and glance over to him. "Look, T-"

"It's Trevor, you lazy ass."

"Trevor, there's-" You let out another deep sigh, taking a sip of your new beer. "There's no good way for me to even try to explain this, it's just-"

"Oh, there's a perfectly good way for you to explain this, buddy." He sounds perfectly calm, despite the subject matter, and that scares the living shit out of you. When he sounds reasonable and rational, that's when you know he's ready to kill you. "You fucking left me in the dust while you went to live in La La Land. Too bad it wasn't as great as it was cracked up to be, huh?"

"T, you fucking knew why I had to get out of the game. I have a family, they can't get in the way of-"

"Out of the way of what? Me? Your buddies? You practically pretended your wife didn't fucking exist half the time for christ's fucking sake, the fuck were you suppose to be saving them from? The kids loved me, the only reason I didn't see them mire often was because of your fat bitch of a wif-"

You glare at him, growling at him. "Don't you fucking drag my wife into this, T. It's not their fault, it's between you and me."

"Right, right. Sorry, I forgot you just couldn't fucking keep it in your pants for a few hours."

"You're one to fucking talk."

Both of you are quiet, sipping your drinks down. You're not exactly scared of him all that much, you've tamed the guy for years anyways, you've seen worse. But that was ten years ago, you're not sure how much he's changed. He's just as crazy and wild as ever, but you're not sure how much worse now that he knows you're still alive. Good thing he doesn't know about anything else yet.

You jump a little when he slams down his glass and barks at the bartender for a round of shots. You give him a wary look and he grins at you.

"Hey, if you're gonna be a stick in the mud, then I'll get my own party going!" He picks up a shot glass and gives you a wink. "Besides, you're a fucking lightweight anyways. I'm surprised you aren't knocked out cold on your ass yet." He laughs at you when you glare at him and call the bartender over again for your own round of shots, and he waits until you receive yours to finally drink the damn thing, clinking his shot glass with yours. "To old times, eh, Mikey?"

You lean back and down it as fast as possible, slamming it down. "Yeah yeah, fuck you too, T."

 

You were kicked out of the bar when Trevor started to yell at some guy that gave him a wrong look or something. Or maybe it was when he started slamming his face into the floor. Either way, you both ended up on the sidewalk, and that's when he started shouting about his truck being towed away or something, so now he's hopping into your car, propping his feet on the dash and turning the radio station to the garbage he likes to listen to. You can barely walk a straight line, but hey, if you're honest, you're a better driver when you're drunk anyways. He gives you an address that's vaguely familiar, and you start your drive.

He's quiet for a good minute or so until he turns to you. "So. What's the real reason you left, huh?"

"The fuck you talking about, T?"

He laughs slash coughs. "Ah come on, Mikey, you're killing me! We both know your bullshit answer back there was bad. What's the story. Things get a little too hot and heavy for ya?"

It's now your turn to laugh. "T, I seriously have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

He growls. "Stop fucking lying to me already. We both fucking know you didn't want to come to that little shitfest back there, yet you did anyways. The question is, why?"

"T, I came because I wanted to be nice and mend things for once. Look, I did something really fucking shitty to you, I really did, but you can't hold a grudge forever, man."

Trevor laughs, and you shrink back in your seat a bit. "You're such a dirty fucking liar, did you know that? I deserve to hold a grudge against a fucking silver-tongued, backstabbing, cheating, little-"

"I only lied because I wanted to keep my family safe, T! For christ's sake, how many times do I gotta say it to get it through your thick skull, I couldn't have a career that painted a target on my back and think that everyone back home was gonna be fine!"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause when you blow half your take on strippers and coke and come back to the hotel with a hooker on each arm, it really painted the picture that you gave a shit about them."

"That was back then when I was a kid and didn't care."

"Didn't care about what? Me? The crew? Everything?"

"I cared about that and you know it. Things weren't going to work out the way they were going and I needed to fix it."

If looks could kill, he would be digging out your eyeballs with a spoon while gutting you with a rusty serrated blade. "You're the filthiest fucking liar I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"You told me that twice, T."

He jabs a finger into your gut, practically screaming at the top of his lungs. "You're all fucking talk and no action! You're nothing but a fat fucking slug, I can't believe you fucking degraded to this pathetic shell!"

"I can't believe you've gotten even crazier than you were ten years ago."

"Who do ya think did that to me, huh?" He leans in closer, and you can smell the beer and the other various liquors he's had, spittle hitting your face as he spit his venom on you. "WHO DID THAT TO ME?!"

You can't take it anymore. No, scratch that, you can't take him anymore. You pull over to a shoulder in the road, and open the passenger door. "Get out."

He blinks. "What?"

"I said, get the fuck out of my car."

"Are you...are you kicking me out of your fucking car?"

Your facial expression doesn't change one little bit. "Yeah. I am."

He glares at you, swears a few more times, then gets out and slams the car door shut. He says something about you "not seeing the last of this ass", then he storms into the highway, stopping a black truck, then slamming the driver into the pavement and hopping inside, driving over and away from the crumpled figure on the road. Your phone rumbles and you look at the message that came through only seconds ago. You sigh in defeat when you read the message.

WE R GNNA DO THIS AGAIN RITE AMIGO???

Yes, Trevor, you think as you reroute the car to your house. Yes we are.


End file.
